


Standing Eight Count

by MoodyFern



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Hate Sex, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 03, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:22:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26667400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoodyFern/pseuds/MoodyFern
Summary: Fitzpatrick put Beth back on schedule and the countdown begins. She can't wait to get rid of Rio once and for all. Of course, things don't go as planned.
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rio
Comments: 35
Kudos: 228





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This spilled out of my sleep-deprived, overcaffeinated brain a few months ago. I went back and forth between posting and deleting it, and then I let it sit there and forgot about it.  
> I haven’t written anything in years and I know my grammar and pacing is all over the place. I also can’t write smut to save my life, so feel free to drag me for it.

Friday

Fitzpatrick put her back on schedule — Tuesday 11 AM.

It’s only Friday, and blood itches nervously in her veins because there’s too much time for things to go wrong until Tuesday.

Again.

To make things worse, she’s meeting Rio tonight after hours at Boland Bubbles to look through the books. She really wishes she didn’t have to see him until Tuesday, because it sometimes feels like he sees right through her.

Beth picks up the kids from Judith's, drops them off at school, and heads straight to the store. Dean is waiting for her there so that they can interview potential employees. Eric stayed on, but a few of their other salespeople left following the change in management.

After a lot of thinking, Beth decided to bite the bullet and hire Annie as well, already dreading the inevitable fallout of Dean and her working together. The only plan she has so far is to always keep them working opposite shifts. Beth still has to keep working at Paper Porcupine in order to have access to the printing press, so she has to trust Dean not to burn the place down while she’s gone and make sure he doesn’t suspect anything.

She knows it can’t last forever, but things need to run smoothly for now. She can only handle dealing with one man in her life at a time.

Interviews took longer than she expected. They interviewed about 15 people and then narrowed down the list to the two who fit the profile best. Among other requirements necessary for the job, they had to be the type of person willing to look the other way if they noticed anything suspicious, such as tattooed guys showing up at the shop carrying duffel bags. Since Dean wasn’t aware of this specific requirement, she had to fight him on her choices because he didn’t understand why she wouldn’t hire the guy who offhandedly mentioned his wife was a cop while Dean was out of the office getting them coffee, or the incredibly observant lady who had previous experience selling spas and was very familiar with the usual prices of the models they sold.

They finally agreed on the two people they should hire, when Beth realized she was going to be late for her shift at the Paper Porcupine.

In her car and on the way to work, she called her co-worker, Piper, apologizing for being late to take over, but the other woman interrupted her to say that she didn’t have to come in. They are closed because the store was broken into and the police are dusting for prints. After she hangs up Beth sees several missed calls from Dorothy. She was so focused on the interviews that she forgot to check her phone all day. When she calls the old lady back, Dorothy explains they would be open again on Monday after they replace the things that were stolen. The poor woman is beside herself because there is one thing she cannot replace — the printing press that has been in her family for over a hundred years.

***

Back home, Beth is busying herself with housework to fill the time that has been freed up unexpectedly. It is a welcome distraction from dialing the number she’s been itching to dial ever since getting off the phone with Dorothy.

She can already imagine him all pleased with himself, a smug look on his face. He’s been intent on riling her up more than usual, and she won’t give him the satisfaction this time.

The thing is, there isn’t much housework to be done since she still has no proper furniture or dishes, so when she finally admits defeat and grabs a glass of bourbon, Beth sits on the makeshift couch nursing her drink absentmindedly, staring through the old TV set that Ruby gave her. She desperately needs some real furniture.

Later that evening when she’s finally behind the desk at Boland Bubbles, pretending to be very interested in the file in front of her, Beth tries her best to appear bored as she barely looks up at Rio when he saunters through the door and drops into the chair across from her. He must find her performance amusing because he licks his lips and tries to stop the smirk on his face from spreading into a grin.

He doesn’t say anything as she continues reading through the file she’d know by heart by now had she actually been paying any attention to it. And of course, Beth knows this dance too well by now. She has to be the one to speak first because he would just sit there watching her until she does, each passing second adding to her defeat once she caves.

“So,” she starts, clearing her throat.

Rio straightens up a little in his seat with growing amusement, as if he’s just won something.

“How are we going to do this? I assume you already have the printing press set up somewhere.”

“My guy will come to pick you up tomorrow and take you to the place. I’m gonna need you to make a list of things you need so you can start printing, and we can stock up before that. “ He's in the business mode, like a switch was flipped as soon as he made sure he was still in the lead. Beth finds it infuriating.

She still has a lot to say to him about the million ways his plan has inconvenienced her, the most pressing one being how she was supposed to continue printing once Fitzpatrick —

Pushing that particular question out of her mind before it’s completely formed, as if Rio could read it on her face, she asks her next one.

“What if the cops find something to lead them to us?“

“They won’t.”

“And do you have any idea how long that press has been in her family?”

“Yeah, I don’t really care darlin’. Are we doing this or not? Because if not, we can just go back to our previous arrangement. “ He’s rocking his jaw, daring her.

And she wants to remind him that he can’t just kill them, because replacing them would cost him months in profits until the next person gets the printing formula just right, but then she tells herself it will all be irrelevant come Tuesday, so she sighs instead and pushes some of the files towards him.

“Fine.”

His shoulders relax a bit as he takes this easy win with caution, and Beth bites her cheeks, hoping that her sudden compliance won’t raise any red flags. 

They spend the next hour going through the books, trying to decide where they have leeway to increase profit margins. And once they put down the weaponry, it’s easy to fall into working. Despite everything they still make a good team. And If they were any other two people they could admit they enjoyed each other’s company.

As they’re finishing up Beth pulls out a bottle of bourbon, pours herself a glass, and offers Rio one. He considers her for a second before he slowly nods.

They drink in comfortable silence, both deep in thought for a few minutes. Rio is rolling the glass in his hand absentmindedly when he suddenly seems to remember something, his eyes darting towards Beth for a moment. He purses his lips, downs the rest of his drink, and stands up abruptly.

“So now that there’s no reason for you to keep working at the craft store, I’m gonna need you to take over as manager here.”

Beth glares at him in disbelief “You want me to quit my job. Now?"

“Yeah. That a problem?”

“Yes. That is a problem. It won’t look suspicious at all if I up and leave right after the robbery.”

Rio scoffs. “Please, they don’t have any way to tie you to that robbery. So, do it tomorrow, aight?”

And she hates him. She despises his ability to act normal one moment and turn into his usual self with a flip of a switch.

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said no. I’m not quitting my job. Dean has it under control here, and I will find time to be here before and after my shifts —”

“And also find the time to print?”

“Yes.”

“And take care of those kids of yours? Because I’m not having any delays while you attend your recitals, swim meets, and whatnot.”

She’s angry that he’s right. And okay —the only reason she even took that job was to have access to a good printer. But when he’s standing there, demanding things from her instead of asking, she just can’t help but push back.

“I will make it work.” Beth juts out her chin in defiance.

He scoffs. “I don’t trust that dumbass husband of yours to run the place, okay?”

She’s standing now and has no idea when she rose to her feet.

“Well too bad that this isn’t your place and you don’t have any say in how things work around here.”

He’s around the table and in front of her in two long strides. It’s another thing she hates about him. The way he just glides through space with such resolve.

“It’s my money. My operation.”

“ _My_ store. And as long as your money keeps coming, it’s none of your business how the place is run.”

There’s only one step separating them now and she can see his nostrils flaring, his jaw rocking as he fixes her with a scowl, before his face suddenly evens out as if he’s figured something out. He narrows his eyes.

“Why is it so important that he thinks he’s in charge?”

She is caught off guard for a moment before she smiles with that defiant glimmer in her eyes that she’s sporting these days. Rio hates to admit it even to himself, but he kinda likes it.

“Good night, Christopher.”

He’s a bit surprised at the mention of his name which she normally never does, except that one time —

_“That’s not an answer, Christopher.”_

She’s trying to rattle him, so he knows he’s onto something. He tries not to let the surprise show, though Beth doesn’t miss the moment before he schools his features.

And he knows what she’s doing. Of course he does. She’s learned it from him after all.

She’s putting it all on Dean, so if things go south — it isn’t on her.

Rio huffs out in amusement, still close enough that Beth can feel his breath on her skin.

“Good night Elizabeth.” He says looking at her with that half-grin for a moment longer before he glides out of the office.

Saturday

Even though the pay is not worth it and she could really use the extra time, Beth knows it’s a bad idea to quit her job, especially since that’s what Rio wants her to do.

She knows that as soon as she’d start going into work at Boland Bubbles, he’d start showing up at the store, just as he did during the dealership days. Then it wouldn’t be long before Dean accidentally saw him there and put two and two together. And then —

But, oh. Right.

Beth shakes her head, feeling silly all of a sudden.

None of that will be a problem in three days.

She tells herself that the only reason she keeps forgetting that very significant fact is that she can’t believe it’s almost over. Won’t believe it until it’s done.

_Unkillable. Unhuman._

So here she is in her kitchen, taking a sip of bourbon while on the phone with Dorothy. She wanted to give the old lady a heads up before Monday so that she could start looking for someone to replace Beth as soon as possible. She is in the middle of assuring the woman she would continue working until they’ve found someone new when Dorothy interrupts her to say it wouldn’t be necessary. While she is sad to hear Beth is leaving, there would be no need for her to come in during her notice period because Paper Porcupine would be closed for renovations over the next few weeks anyway.

She then explains that she checked her mail this morning only to find an envelope with enough cash to cover the price of her antique press, and have enough left over to spruce up the place like her daughter has been convincing her to do for years. There was a note from this anonymous donor, saying that they were sad to see her store closed due to the unfortunate event, and wanted to help out.

Beth doesn’t exactly know what to do with this information, so she files it away to think about later and starts working on the pie to take to Judith’s. She’s going there to spend time with the kids in the afternoon.

All their disagreements aside, Beth was very grateful to Judith for letting the kids stay with her for a while, no questions asked, after Rio took all of their furniture. The thought of her children being caught up in the mess she created sends her spiraling with guilt until three casseroles, a chicken pot pie, a cheesecake, and a tray of muffins later, she’s officially out of ingredients to bake anything else, so she slumps against the counter, taking a deep breath.

That’s when she hears the doorbell ring, and right, she’s completely forgotten about Rio’s guy coming to take her to see the new printing place. She swings the door open, about to tell him to wait in the car while she changes into some fresh clothes, but she’s faced with – Rio himself.

His face breaks into a smile at her confused look (because since when does he ring doorbells?) and then he proceeds to look her over. She’s suddenly very aware of the fact that she’s sweaty and wearing her low-cut apron over a spaghetti strap top that shows too much cleavage.

“I wasn’t expecting _you_.” She blurts out and his eyebrows shoot up.

“Damn, so you waiting for my boy dressed like that?” He leans back to take her in, lets his eyes rake over her figure shamelessly, and points his long ring-wearing index finger up and down for effect.

Beth snorts and walks back towards the kitchen in order to clean up the last of the mess she made during her cooking frenzy. He follows and then pauses to stare at all the food laid out on the counter. 

“You planning a party?”

She rolls her eyes at him. “I’m just taking some food over to Dean’s mother. She’s letting the kids stay there since –“ She gestures around her empty house.

Rio is leaning against the counter with his arms crossed on his chest, staring at her with this complicated look he sometimes has. She’s seen it once at the bar when she told him Dean took her kids away.

He then pushes off and goes to stand right in front of her, raising his hand towards her face. Beth is about to stop him, tell him they’re not going down that road again when, as if he's read her mind, he quickly drags his thumb across her cheek before she can stop him and holds it up so she can see the white flecks dusting the pad of his finger – flour.

_Oh._

She should really wash her face. Or better yet, she’ll take a shower.

He’s still looking at her in silence, a little smile on his lips now.

“I’m going to take a shower and change. Help yourself to some food. I’ve made too much. There’s also coffee in the pot if you’d like some.“ 

She has no idea why the sudden outburst of hospitality. She’s not that person around him and it sounds weird as soon as it’s out of her mouth, but there it is. She remembers another time she malfunctioned in a similar way when he was in her kitchen for a whole different reason. She pushes the thought away and marches down the hallway towards her bedroom before he can say anything.

She takes her time in the shower just to piss him off, and if she picks the peach-scented shower gel it's certainly not because of another time she remembers using it.

_"Oh baby, I love the way you smell. What is that?" He muses kissing the inside of her thigh, slowly moving upwards until his lips are exactly where she wanted them._

_"It's...oh" She tries to reply as he sucks in her clit and wraps his tongue around it in a way that almost makes her black out. She forgets what she was trying to say, and he chuckles, his stubble tickling her folds._

_And, no!_ What’s wrong with her? Why does the keep remembering these things? Has she completely lost control of her own thoughts?

When she’s back freshly showered, changed into a pair of black jeans and her favorite purple sweater, she finds Rio sitting at the kitchen isle typing away on his phone. She sees a clean plate in the drying rack and some food missing from the casserole pan.

He doesn’t say anything about the food and she doesn’t ask. She immediately scolds herself for wondering if he liked her cooking.

***

They are driving through a familiar neighborhood when she realizes where he’s moved the printer. They park in front of his bar, but instead of going in, she follows him through the door opposite the entrance to the bar and up a flight of stairs with only one door at the top of it. He unlocks it and gestures for Beth to come in.

It is a spacious bright room with large windows overlooking the busy street below. There are counters and shelves lining the long wall opposite the windows, a long island in the center of the room with brand new paper presses lined up, and at the back wall, all cleaned up and ready - her printing press.

Beth can notice Rio’s eyes on her, fishing for a reaction, so she focuses on keeping her face neutral.

“I guess this will do.” She says with a sigh.

This place is better than her previous print room by a mile and much better equipped. She won’t admit that to him though.

He smiles and licks his lips as if it’s the funniest thing he’s heard in a while. Beth immediately thinks of another time he smiled like that.

_“What’s up? You miss me?”_

_“No.”_

“So listen, we’re stocked up on the stuff on your list for at least a few months, except that nail polish you asked for. “ He frowns a little and points to less than a dozen pink bottles on the shelf. “I guess this will get you through the first few batches until we find more.”

She nods and makes a mental note to ask Ruby to start working on a new recipe in case they don’t.

“So if you’re all good here, I’ll leave you to it, yeah?”

When she doesn’t say anything else he turns to leave.

“You left Dorothy money for the press.” It’s not a question and she doesn’t even know when she decided to say it.

Rio turns around slowly. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

He shrugs “I ain’t no thief.” And the way he looks at her accusingly makes her want to smack him.

She raises her eyebrows at him, “You do know the definition of theft? Technically, you still stole it.”

Rio grins in amusement.

“Just like all my furniture.” She adds.

His mood immediately shifts. He furrows his eyebrows and juts out his lip, returning to stand right in front of her.

“Nah, see, _that_ was debt collection, darlin’.” He smirks, leans in closer so their noses are almost touching, and adds huskily “If we’re being all technical and shit.”

She tries not to let his closeness affect her as she can feel his breath on her lips, and his eyes tracing down the side of her face just like his fingers used to, brushing away the loose strand of hair. Her cheeks heat up at that particular memory, the room suddenly too hot and a bit fuzzy around the edges.

And – god. She really needs to stop that. It’s like her body is betraying her at the worst possible times.

Clearing her throat suddenly, she steps back and turns to look around the room, releasing the breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

“I should really get started here. I have other places to be today.”

“Right, right.” He drawls, watching her fumble with the paper presses for a minute before slipping out of the room.

Sunday

Beth stares at Jane and Marcus chasing each other around the football field playing some game while waiting for the practice to begin.

“It’s not fair Marcus! You always win because you’ve played this before. “

“Yes, but you’re getting better at it. Come on!”

“The rules are stupid.”

“If you don’t like the rules, you should get out of the game. “

Marcus says matter-of-factly making a serious face, his eyebrows knitted, and Beth’s sure he’s repeating a certain someone’s words.

She snorts and shakes her head but can’t help the weird familiar tightening in her chest – the kind that’s there whenever she thinks of just how much that little boy reminds her of his father.

“I see you’re alive.”

A familiar voice jolts Beth from her thoughts.

“Yes”, Beth pauses before she continues carefully, “we’ve managed to come to an understanding.”

Rhea raises an eyebrow at her, so Beth adds. “Well, I guess I’m safe as long as he finds me… useful.”

She still doesn’t know what Rhea knows about Rio’s business so she leaves it at that.

Rhea scoffs and shakes her head a little, smiling to herself. Beth decides she’s not going to ask what’s so funny, already thinking about a way to excuse herself from this awkward conversation.

“You know, it’s none of my business and you’re the last person I want to be talking about this with, but he isn’t the type of person to forgive and forget. He doesn’t do second chances. And what you did –" She looks Beth up and down letting her disdain sink in “–There is no business deal in the world worth to him enough to forgive that. So you tell yourself whatever you have to, but there’s only one reason you’re still alive.”

Beth frowns, shakes her head, and opens her mouth to say – well she has no idea what exactly, but Rhea raises her hand to stop her.

“Save it. I don’t wanna hear it. Just don’t make him regret it, okay? Because beneath all he is and all that he does, he’s a great guy and the best father I could’ve asked for my son.”

She swallows hard and throws a quick glance at Beth before she marches off towards the other end of the field to help another mom prepare orange slices for the kids.

Beth feels a lump in her throat making it difficult for her to swallow around and spends the rest of the practice in a daze she can’t snap out of.

But she doesn’t unpack Rhea’s words. There’s no point. She obviously doesn’t know exactly what Beth does for a living, or how obsessed Rio gets when a new opportunity to flip his game arises. If she did, she’d understand why he spared her life.

By the time evening comes she’s more than ready for her wine night with Ruby. They haven’t seen each other much lately, both of them busy with their jobs. Laughing at some ridiculous scene of their favorite reality show, Beth refills their glasses for the third time with the delicious and quite expensive Pinot Grigio she decided to treat them with. They’ve earned it.

“Do you think Annie will hate us for having wine night without her?” Beth says, wiping away a stray laughter-induced tear.

“Umm, I don't care. She couldn’t make it, and I needed this more than you can imagine.” Ruby replies rolling her eyes.

“Tell me about it.”

Ruby studies her face for a moment. “So how are you holding up, considering.”

“I’m great. The sales are great, the new printing equipment is really making the process easier…” Beth lets the sentence trail off.

“And…?”

“And, nothing,” Beth says, her voice a bit higher than she'd like.

“So no second thoughts regarding.. homie?”

“No, why would I be having second thoughts?” Beth’s response came out a bit too quickly.

“Well, things are going great for once. He doesn’t seem too intent on killing us anymore. And I can’t say it hurts to have his goons when we need them.”

“Oh my god, are _you_ having second thoughts?” Beth widens her eyes dramatically. 

“No, I mean, I know things change real quick where you and he are involved and this could all be just a calm before the storm. But it’s really, really damn calm at the moment and I feel weird, you know? It doesn’t feel very life-or-death at the moment.”

“Yeah, at the moment,” Beth huffs out “at the moment being the operative phrase.”

“I know, and that’s why we’re going ahead with the plan if you say so. All I’m saying is, you better make sure it’s what you want.”

“It is. And we haven’t paid all that money for it to just go to waste.”

“Honey, please, that money's gone either way. We can still keep our souls, is all I’m saying.”

Beth just shakes her head unsure of what to say next.

“And B, I really hate to say this but I haven’t seen you this present in a while.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you seem to finally enjoy yourself. While he was gone, it was like you were on autopilot. You were still the best mom in the world, employee of the month at the Porcupine, and all that jazz. But at the same time, it felt like… nothing truly reached you, you know?”

And something clenched in Beth’s chest at her best friend’s words because of course she’s noticed. She knows her better than anyone.

Beth herself tried not to notice that ever since those bullets rang around that empty loft, after the initial ringing in her ears passed, it was as if her hearing became muffled. And it stayed that way. Everything else seemed muted as well. And whatever she did, she felt like going through the motions knowing how she should feel, and reacting accordingly without the feeling ever quite reaching her. It was a strange sensation she couldn’t explain, so she just waited for it to pass.

It didn’t, so it became the new normal instead.

At least until that evening when he showed up in Rhea’s place and she suddenly heard the same ringing in her ears and then, as if the damage was undone, all her senses became sharp and heightened again.

“B? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Beth shook her head a little, realizing it took her to long to say something back.

Ruby took a deep breath before she continued slowly, worried that she’s said too much and that her friend would clam up the way she usually does when faced with things she doesn’t want to think about.

“I can’t pretend to understand this thing between the two of you, especially since you don’t want to talk about it, and I don’t want to push you, but you have to at least acknowledge that him being gone has affected you. And it’s going to affect you again. I just want you to know I’ll be here if you need to talk about it.”

“Thank you, Ruby, really. But there’s not much to talk about and there’s nothing weird between me and him.”

“Yeah, you’re not the one who has to witness it.”

“What on earth do you mean?”

“Well, it’s like… when he’s there, you two are in this weird bubble and I don’t think you really hear or see anyone else around you.”

Beth takes a big gulp of her wine, and prepares to say something, but unsure what she can possibly say to this.

“And I keep thinking about what you said about me and Stan. God, I can’t believe I’m saying this, because I told myself I wouldn’t. It must be the damn wine.”

“Well spill it now,” Beth says, unsure if she even wants to hear it but the curiosity getting the best of her. The wine is definitely to blame.

“You once told me that you’ve never looked at Dean the way I look at Stan. Well, I’ve never seen anyone look at anyone the way you two look at each other.”

It was suddenly too much for Beth, and she felt air trapped in her chest. She wanted to laugh or say something to deny what Ruby just said, but she couldn’t find her voice, trapped behind a lump forming in the back of her throat.

“Okay, except Mick. That’s how he looks at his food. What is up with that dude?”

And then they both burst into laughter, Beth thankful to her friend more than she could possibly imagine for letting her off the hook.

They spent the rest of the evening avoiding the subject completely, Ruby aware that she wouldn’t get a word out of her. Beth was always too reluctant to talk about her feelings, even with her. So Ruby learned to offer a piece of her mind when she thought it necessary, hoping that her friend would take what she needed from it, even though she wouldn’t say much on the subject.

Monday

Dean wasn’t at all happy when Beth announced she would be coming into work starting Monday. He hid it well though, and since she was the one who bought the place he wasn’t in a position to protest. So instead he went around the house like a lost puppy all weekend.

They agreed he would still work the morning shifts and be in charge of procurement, staff training, and all the other day-to-day things. She would work afternoons, decide on the pricing, and keep the books in order. He didn’t fight her on that either due to his track record with their finances.

And when Rio showed up at Boland Bubbles just as she and Annie were closing up on Monday, she wasn’t even surprised.

He tried to keep his victorious smirk in check, but it was still there.

“We’re closed.”

“Aww, come on now. We didn’t get to celebrate. Both prongs of our operation up and running. It would be a _crime_ not to drink to that.” The way he drawls out the word ‘crime’ thinking he’s hilarious makes Beth roll her eyes.

“I could have a drink” Annie offers from the other end of the room raising her hand, and Beth seriously considers strangling her.

Rio glances towards Annie conspiratorially and then raises a bottle of the good bourbon he brought, looking at Beth with his eyebrows raised in faux innocence.

She rolls her eyes before stomping off to the office to get some glasses. Back in the showroom, Annie is sprawled out in one of the eight-seaters, Rio perched up on the side of it, diagonally from her. Beth pours each of them a drink before she climbs into the tub as well and sits on the third corner.

“To making a lot of money!” Rio toasts predictably.

“Well, kinda.” Annie mutters before downing her drink.

Rio just huffs at her comment, knowing full well he’s the only one making a lot of money from their deal.

Beth just downs her drink in silence, not knowing how to feel about the fact they’re celebrating with a man who they’re having killed the next day. How did their lives get so weird?

“So, you quit the paper shop.” Rio finally says what she knows he’s been dying to say ever since he walked through the door.

“It turns out they’re closed for renovations and might not need the extra help once they’re done.” Beth lies about the second part and Rio’s lips turn up in a small smile. He’s not buying it for a second, and she pretends she doesn’t care.

Annie then goes off on a tangent, asking Rio this and that about the business all chummy and down with the lingo in a way she always is with him. The fact that he never fully engages in conversation or offer many answers doesn’t deter her.

Beth doesn’t say much, except cut in to steer the conversation in another direction whenever Annie is too close to sharing childhood anecdotes. Rio throws her a dirty side glance each time she does.

They’re on their third drink already, and Beth is pleasantly buzzed from the bourbon, feeling more relaxed than she has in a while. This is some good stuff. She memorizes the label so she can look it up later, but guesses it’s probably too expensive for her to get too used to.

She closes her eyes and savors the smooth rich taste of caramel, oak, and a hint of vanilla.

She opens them from time to time, and each time she does, Rio’s eyes dart towards her, seemingly on their own accord, like their bodies are weirdly in tune.

Beth realizes that no matter who’s talking, Rio’s body is somehow aligned with hers at every given moment as if there's this magnetic pull between them and she finds it maddening. She’s always been aware of it on some level but has never consciously thought about it before Ruby brought up this weird connection she claims they have.

And here it is now. It’s as if they’re engaged in this parallel conversation that she doesn’t even get to hear. If she did, maybe he’d be less of a mystery to her. 

“Elizabeth?” Rio’s voice jars her from her thoughts.

“Yes? “ She realizes she must have been staring at him, lost in thought.

“I asked if you were alright?”

“Of course. Just tired. It’s been a long day.” She polishes off her drink and moves to leave the tub, hoping he’ll take it as his queue to leave.

And he does, though not before spending another long moment watching her as if she was a math problem he’s not quite figured out yet.

He doesn’t seem in a hurry to leave, which was new since he’s usually always on the move as soon as he’s done with whatever he came to do or say.

“Aight then. See you ladies real soon. “ He says giving Annie a small smile that she returns raising her glass.

“Later, boss.”

He grins at that. And is he actually warming up to her?

Annie is still lounging in the tub, her head propped up in her hand. She studies Beth carefully, pondering whether to ask her a question. Beth clocks it but doesn’t say anything until it’s been long enough that it begins to freak her out. Annie never thinks before she speaks, and especially not this long.

“Oh my god! What? Just say it!”

Annie shrugs, the decision made for her. She lets her hand dangle off the side of the tub and drums her fingers against the acrylic surface a few times before she finally spits it out.

“Do you think you’ll miss it? Just a little bit?”

“Miss what?” Beth asks, her voice higher than she wanted it to be. She’s buying time before she has to answer and Annie knows it, but she still goes along with it.

“The eye-fucking? The longing looks? Those little fights you both enjoy? You know.. that whole thing.” 

Beth shakes her head a little, starting to clear up her desk and trying hard to stop her blush from spreading.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. That is not a thing.” Beth gestures dismissively.

Annie chuckles. “Tell that to your face.”

Beth glares at her and Annie straightens up a little, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. “Okay then. Fine. We can pretend I've imagined it all if that makes it easier.”

“There is nothing to pretend — “ Beth stops herself before she gets too worked up and starts putting away the files into a drawer with more force than necessary. She’s been jittery all day, feeling as if she’s holding a breath and just can’t exhale. She’s hoping the feeling will go away tomorrow once it’s all over.

Annie sees something in her face that makes her say the next thing in a cautious, serious tone “We don’t have to do it. I mean, we can still call it off. You know that, right?”

Beth doesn’t reply immediately, and when she does her face is completely blank.

“We’re not calling anything off. Tomorrow at 11:01 AM, we are officially free.” She adds a small smile that Annie doesn’t find too convincing.

“Alrighty then. Good chat. “, Annie stands up swinging her arms and stretching.

Tuesday

Beth can’t sleep that night, tossing and turning until she finally gives up around 5 AM and decides to get an early start on the kids’ lunches. Once she picks them up from Judith's and drops them off at school she goes straight to the print room. It’s best to finish printing the current batch before the news about Rio reach his guys because she has no idea when and how she’d be able to print again after that. She still hopes she will be able to make some kind of deal with them or at least convince them to sell her the press.

It is almost 10 AM when Mick unexpectedly drops by.

“Hi,”Beth greets him and gets a “Yo” in return.

“I wasn’t expecting you this morning.”

“Yeah,” is the only explanation she gets before he starts checking their printing stock. He sighs noticing they are running dangerously low on Creamsicle Sunset.

“As you may have noticed we’re going to need to find more of this stuff,” She says tapping the cap of one bottle.

“Yeah, I’m working on it.” comes his gruff reply. And Beth almost chuckles because she instantly imagines how a guy like Mick felt asking around for a nail polish called Creamsicle Sunset.

“It’s not gonna be easy to find it again, so you better be working on a new recipe.”

And right, they really should be getting on that. But with everything that’s been going on lately the three of them barely had time to meet up and print, let alone experiment with a new recipe.

“We are.” Beth lies and hopes that it won’t matter in a couple of hours anyway.

Mick turns to leave once he’s sure they are stocked up on everything else, but Beth has an idea.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?”

He stops and waits, annoyed already, but doesn’t turn around.

“So how exactly does this work? This operation that you have going?”

He turns around, his eyebrows shooting up.

“I mean, I know who you answer to. But does he answer to anyone?”

He just continues staring at her and Beth knows she should stop talking right about now because she sounds more and more suspicious with each word, but she’s already started and may as well finish it.

“I was just wondering about the hierarchy of – things.” She muses.

Mick approaches her slowly, still staring at her suspiciously, and doesn’t say anything right away. She busies herself with the paper cutter, refusing to look up at him, afraid that she’s said too much.

“I don’t know where these questions are coming from and what ideas you’ve gotten into your head this time, but let’s get one thing straight - we’re not buddies. The only reason I’m standing here talking with you is because he pays me to. And remember you’re still alive only because he allows you to be. So thank your lucky stars, and do your goddamn job.”

Beth tries to swallow the anger, repeating to herself that in about an hour none of this will matter, but she hears herself speak before she can help it.

“I’m still alive because I’m good at what I do. Because I make the best damn money you’ve seen.”

He just watches her unimpressed.

“Yeah, your money’s alright. But it doesn’t change the fact that if he had just said one word, I would’ve gotten you in the back of that van with your friend.” He smiles almost nostalgically at that and Beth shivers at the thought that this man has killed and chopped up Lucy, and obviously wishes he could've done the same to her.

“But you shoot him up, steal from him, and still get to sit on your high horse. Because you print money.” He repeats the last part mockingly .”The numbers you bring in, you’re more trouble than you’re worth. Always have been.”

Beth’s taken aback “What does that mean?”

“It means you’re a very small cog in the machine, sunshine.”

“Then why does he…” Beth starts, but the words dry up in her throat.

Mick scoffs in disbelief. “You know damn well why.”

And it’s too much for her now. The way the entire universe seems to be rooting against her. She just has to wait another hour and then deal with the guilt or whatever else surfaces with it. Just one hour.

But her mouth betrays her once again.

“Wait, you can’t be saying that he... after— ” She shakes her head and it must be the stress and lack of sleep but she swears there’s less and less air in the room each passing second.

“I mean, he can’t. That can’t possibly be it.”

Mick just shakes his head as if he’s talking with an incredibly slow person.

“You know Mrs. B, I don’t particularly like you, but you’re a smart lady. This can’t possibly be news to you.” He turns to leave again but then pauses.

“And this is the only time I ever speak of this. I don’t need your drama. The two of you should really work it out on your own.”

He’s gone now and Beth is left to stand there, still fighting for that air that just isn’t there. She checks the time on her phone.

10:15 AM

Just forty-five more minutes and it’s over. There’s no need to unpack any of this now. Just let those thoughts sit in their neat little boxes for 45 more minutes and then you’ll deal with them – she keeps telling herself.

But the idea is too strong and it’s taking root in her gut now, clinging to every interaction they’ve had since he’s been back.

To every memory before she —

Back when they were still —

And it’s all crashing down on her, the thoughts she didn’t dare entertain. She’s clutching to the edge of the table in front of her until her fingers are numb.

What is she supposed to do with this? He said they were business, repeatedly. He put a gun in her hand and told her to shoot an FBI agent. He came back to torture her. He —

How can he do these things if he cares about her? And then she looks at the clock again and realizes – he’s doing it the same way she is. By convincing himself that she doesn’t care, that it’s all business, and doing what needs to be done. And she starts laughing maniacally or crying, she isn’t sure anymore but tears are clouding her vision and there still isn’t any air in the room.

She calls Fitzpatrick but the calls are going straight to voice mail.

She leaves him a message telling him to call her back and texts him.

_ABORT! We’re NOT moving forward with the lawsuit!_

When he doesn’t reply in another 5 minutes she’s pacing around the room impatiently not knowing what to do.

How can she stop it? Is she sure she even wants to?

But the way her heart sinks at the thought of being too late answers it for her.

10:22

Her thoughts fly to the glove compartment of her car where she keeps Fitzpatrick’s invoices. But she doesn’t even have to read them — she’s read them so many times, enthralled by Rio’s snobby and surprisingly organized schedule.

_“On Tuesdays, he plays tennis at a very posh country club. He does shower after in an unattended locker room. It’s another opportunity.”_

10:25

She drives as fast as she can, hoping that she doesn’t get pulled over. According to google maps, the tennis club is about 40 minutes away, and she has to get there sooner. She prays that something delays Fitzpatrick, but it’s futile. The man is infallibly punctual.

But by some dumb luck, she catches a green wave and doesn’t get pulled over for driving over the speed limit.

10:55

She’s hurrying towards the front desk of the country club, spotting behind it a pale and lanky boy barely in his twenties.

“Where is the men’s locker room? “ She asks the boy who opens his mouth twice before he says anything.

“Are you a member, Madam?”

Beth slams a stack of cash on the counter. “Men’s locker room. Now!”

The kid eyes the money warily and she prays he takes it because she really didn’t have time to come up with a plan B. He sighs and quickly grabs the money off the counter, afraid that someone would see it.

“Down this hall, and then down the stairs and to the left.”

She hurries in the direction he pointed her in and every cell in her body is urging her to go faster, praying that she isn’t too late.

Once she’s there she realizes there is a side entrance from the tennis courts and she knows that’s where Fitzpatrick would be coming from. She checks the time.

10:58

Beth pushes the door to the locker room and almost body-slams a man on his way out. He looks at her like she’s crazy, and she can’t blame him because she definitely feels crazy right now. She mutters something like an apology and the man looks back at her once more before he exits.

There’s no one else there but she can hear the sound of water running from the room to the right. She follows the sound and ends up in a shower room, with a row of frosted glass doors leading to separate walled-off shower units. 

Only one of them is occupied. She goes to stand in front of the door, immediately recognizing his lean muscular silhouette through the glass, and her heart flutters in relief.

Then she detects movement to her right and turns to see Fitzpatrick watching her calmly from the door as if he’s not even surprised to see her. She shakes her head the tiniest bit but it’s enough for him to smile courtly, and nod in understanding before he’s gone. She exhales in relief just as the shower door swings open suddenly, and right – he’s noticed her there.

She’s never seen him more surprised. Except for that night when she —

Beth pushes the thought down and tries to think of something to say instead.

“Hi,” she says breathily and wishes she could just disappear.

“Hi,” he echoes, still just standing there waiting for her to make sense. 

Beth keeps her eyes trained on Rio’s face, not allowing them to dip further down his torso because she doesn’t want to see what's there, marring his perfectly smooth skin.

When she doesn’t offer any explanation he sighs and picks up a towel hanging by the door, and wraps it around his waist. “Elizabeth? You wanna tell me what the hell is going on here?”

She focuses on the sound of the water still running behind him, trying to be anywhere but there in that moment when she says the words,

“I put a hit out on you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I put —” she blinks a few times furiously, unable to repeat that. “I had you followed and that’s how I knew —“ she tries again, motioning around the room.

He looks at her like he’s never seen her before. Like he can’t process that this is happening.

Again.

His jaw is working furiously now and the sound of the water echoing around the room is deafening in the silence between them. He looks to the side.

“So, when?”

“Today — now. I just — I stopped it.”

His eyes shoot back up at her and he just stares blankly for a moment.

And then there’s pure fury in his face. He bites his lip, tips his head forward shaking it in disbelief.

She takes a step forward finally sobered up enough to try and make a case for herself. She really didn’t think of what comes after, and unless she says something now while he still doesn’t have his gun on him, she might not get another chance.

“This is not entirely my fault. You came back and started threatening us. I couldn’t sit around wondering what happens when we’re no longer useful to you.”

“Elizabeth,” He warns, straightening up to look her straight in the eyes with that same fury “you don’t get to talk your way out of this. Not this time.”

He looks around as if he’s only now aware of the fact he’s naked and doesn’t have his gun.

“You should go.”

“That’s it?“

“I’m done talking. But you’ll see me real soon.”

“No.” she says with enough fury in her eyes to match his own.

He just shoots her a murderous glare.

“NO! You don’t get to act like this is all my fault.”

“Like hell it isn’t!” He scoffs, eyebrows furrowed in disdain.

“You put that gun in my hand!” She hears it leave her mouth in a stranger’s voice. She doesn’t want to talk about it. She never wants to talk about it. But the words are already out.

“You kidnapped me and put that gun in my hand! What did you expect was gonna happen?”

“Sure as hell not that.” He bites off bitterly. “But you’re right. I guess that’s on me. Didn’t listen to my own damn advice.” He sucks on his teeth. “I’m not making that mistake again. So, go home, spend time with those kids of yours, yeah? Say your goodbyes. I think that’s still much more generous than what you were gonna do.”

He looks around himself and she sees his mind working, probably going over the same images that spring to hers. Someone calling Rhea to tell her he’s been found naked on a cold bathroom floor, shot to death.

He looks at her with a bad taste in his mouth. He’s never looked at her with such disgust and disappointment that she couldn’t stand to bear his eyes on her for a moment longer.

So she had no idea what she is doing until she is suddenly aware of the fact that she is lunging towards him, her fist midair. He catches it before she raises her other hand which he also restrains, and then she’s writhing trying to break free, yelling at him things that she can’t process.

The next moment she’s pinned against the wall of the shower room with his left hand holding both of hers above her head, his right hand on her throat. And that’s when she sees it, really sees it — forced into her field of vision.

Dark purple and still a little jagged around the edges — the bullet scar on his right shoulder.

He catches where her eyes have landed and he presses her further into the wall. She doesn’t deserve to look.

But she can’t stop herself now, so she looks further.

_Lung. Spleen. Shoulder._

“I’m s— “

“Shut up.” He growls.

She opens her mouth again but nothing comes out. She just keeps looking at the scars.

_Lung. Spleen. Shoulder._

He doesn’t like what he sees in her face because he grips her throat tighter and pushes her back into the wall again.

His voice is a low hum now. “You know, I don’t have many regrets, but the one thing I regret is not killing you that day you tried to put me away.”

She flinches at that, remembering the moment that changed something in her forever. It was the moment she knew this man could make her lose control and that for some inexplicable reason she was attracted to him like a moth to a flame. Still is.

She often thinks about that night, lying awake in her bed. She could never quite understand what happened. How easily she trusted him to take the gun from hand. How his touch on her face soothed her, even though every cell in her body screamed not to trust him. How the memory still thrills her even though it ended so badly for poor Dean.

“So why didn’t you?” She hears her voice, hoarse, vibrating under his hand still on her throat.

“I took pity on you. But look where that got me.” He chuckles humorlessly.

“Bullshit. It wasn’t pity and you know it.” She’s going to use the last card up her sleeve. She has nothing more to lose now. So, she chooses to believe what everyone keeps insisting on telling her — that he actually cared.

Beth sees he’s caught off-guard for a moment, though he recomposes so fast she almost misses it.

“I think it’s time for you to go home.” He says, loosening his grip on her hands and neck.

“No.” She repeats the word firmly for the third time today.

His grip tightens again and he growls “What do you want from me Elizabeth? Huh?”

And she sees the exhaustion and desperation in his eyes now. He lets the mask slip because he’s tired. And so is she. So fucking tired.

Something begins uncoiling in her like she can finally breathe, which is ironic considering she’s in the steamy shower room with his hand still gripping her throat.

“I want us to go back to how things used to be.” She hears herself reply, and it surprises her as much as it does him. But she means it.

She can’t keep running from him and pretending that this side of her that wants him doesn’t exist. The side of her he seems to know better than she does.

Sometimes it feels like it’s the only thing that’s left of her. Like it’s been eating away on all that she was before him —or thought she was — until all that was left was this person driven by the hunger for the excitement, the power and — and him.

She’s been trying to separate these things for a long time, pretend he wasn’t part of the equation. When really, he was the center of it. Still is.

“You had your chance. There’s no going back now.” He shakes his head almost wistfully.

“ I know, and I get it. I was just —“

“You were greedy. Wanted the whole kingdom to yourself, huh?” He leans in closer, their faces only inches apart.

“No, I was…“

“You were fucking what, Elizabeth?”

“I was scared, okay?”

“That’s bull. You stopped being scared of me a long time ago, darlin’.”

“I wasn’t scared of you. I mean I was, but not in the way that you think.” Beth sighs in frustration.

“What the fuck does that even mean?”

“I was scared of you, of us, this… _thing_. Because you kidnapped me, dragged me to that dark room and put the gun in my hand and I should’ve been scared. But I wasn’t.”

“You just said —“ Rio’s eyebrows knit in confusion.

“No, but see, the thing I was scared of was the fact that I wasn’t scared. You were asking me to kill an FBI agent and I was actually considering it. I realized that I was able to pull that trigger and it scared me.”

“So you thought it’d be better if you shot me instead?”

“I didn’t really think before I pulled the trigger. I just wanted it to stop because — because it’s not who I am. It’s not who I wanted to be.” She closes her eyes for a moment, exhaustion showing on her face.

“But see, it is who you are, mama. It is.”

“I _know_. I know that now.” Beth admits with a resigned sigh.

She has no idea what he sees in her face, but his eyes are scanning hers in a new way, some of the anger subsided. She tries to release herself from his grip but he doesn’t budge the first time. Nor second.

“Please, let go.” She says in a voice too hoarse and unrecognizable.

He lets the hand on her throat drop but keeps her wrists pinned above her head with his left hand, though loosely.

She swallows hard and surges towards him, but he just pushes her back into the wall.

“No.” He warns.

“Yes.”

He looks at her, and It’s not a look she could ever describe. It’s something conflicted and tortured and naked and… scared.

“Let go, Rio.” But his name on her lips does something to his insides. Twists them up until there’s this bittersweet sickly taste behind his teeth.

And then all he can taste is her tongue licking into his mouth and he’s instinctively kissing her back. He has no idea when he let go of her wrists, or why the hell he’s allowing this but he quickly snaps out of it, breaks the kiss, and pushes her against the opposite wall of the shower this time, throwing them both under the water that is still running.

She hisses then and pries herself away only to attack him again. She’s hitting him with her little fists and just as he’s about to restrain her again, her fists stop digging into his chest.

She opens her palms and traces them across his scars, covering them with the palms of her hands, spreading her little fingers as far as she can. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she was trying to cover them up hoping they wouldn’t be there once she removed her hands. And that’s just silly.

So he lets her perform her ritual for a minute longer while her clothes and hair are getting completely soaked, which she doesn’t seem to notice. She looks up at him then, her lip quivering and mascara running, reminding him of that night. So he runs his thumbs under her eyes, wiping away the dark streaks. And she lets him, leaning into his palms.

Then she just looks up at him and waits patiently and he knows she’s done. It’s up to him this time.

Not allowing himself the time to think about what a bad idea this is, he closes the distance and crashes his lips into hers, the kiss hungry, messy, and desperate.

She throws her hands around his neck, pulling him closer.

But he shakes them off and raises his hands to trace the sides of her body from shoulders down to her forearms, then her hips, where he digs in his fingers and pushes her against the wall, pinning her there again, his dark eyes holding her gaze as if he’s telling her ‘stay’. He’s not allowing her to set her tempo. They’re not doing it under her terms. Not this time.

And she seems to understand that he needs to hold on to this bit of control, so she lets him. Just like he’s let her take what she needed before. In the bathroom. In her bedroom.

Rio’s hands roam lower and grab the hem of her dress, riding it up. He splays them across her thighs then, digging in his fingers into the soft flesh. She lets out a moan into his mouth, relishing in the sensation.

Rio hooks his fingers into the sides of her panties and rips them in half, letting them fall to the tiles. When his fingers find her wet folds she almost vibrates against his lips and it is enough to make him want to trace every inch of her skin with his mouth. He kisses up her jawline, bites at her earlobe hungrily, and moves on to her collar bone to find that place that makes her toes curl when he nibbles at it. And as soon as he does, he can feel her tighten around his fingers.

Rio unzips her dress and peels it down until it’s bunched up around her middle, the creamy skin of her breasts exposed. He takes one pebbly nipple into his mouth, extracting another moan from her. She’s getting impatient, squirming on his fingers, surging forward again, so he palms at her hip again with his free hand, pinning her to the wall.

Stay.

She steadies for a moment and then starts squirming again, pushing up against him, and he pushes her back into the tiles, looking up into her eyes pointedly, reminding her to stay still. The small wicked smile on her lips and a hazy look of pure want in her eyes catches him by surprise and he realizes she’s enjoying it. She’s taunting him, wants him to be rougher – so he is.

He bites at her nipple and digs in his fingers at her side enough to leave a bruise while pumping into her with two fingers of his other hand, and then adding the third which makes her whimper and shudder violently.

“Rio, please.”

He responds by curling the fingers of his free hand around her neck again, maintaining eye contact while he keeps fucking into her with his long fingers, thumb stroking her clit relentlessly. She is so close now, and she closes her eyes chasing the sensation but he squeezes at the nape of her neck harder, demanding that she opens her eyes, and so she does. His are filled with a mixture of anger and lust and surprisingly it’s what pushes her over the edge as her vision blurs under the jolts of pleasure traveling from her center to every nerve ending in her body.

She doesn’t close her eyes but stares at him daringly until her eyes glaze over with the orgasm shaking her body, and this sudden obedience infuriates as much as it pleases him, because she somehow manages to be defiant even in her surrender.

He removes his fingers from her cunt and runs them up and down her sensitive clit like a jerk he is, making her knees buckle, just as he lifts her off by her thighs and buries himself in her in one swift movement, not allowing her to adjust to his size. He holds her up against the wet tiles, and she puts her hands around his shoulders for purchase. He sets a furious pace with his hips, as she digs in nails into his shoulders and lets out a sound so foreign to her own ears that it surprises her.

He hisses and presses her into the wall, kissing her feverishly as she makes continuous small moans into his mouth until it’s too much for him, too personal, and he has to untangle himself from her.

Rio drops her to her feet, turns her around, and pushes back into her barely giving her knees time to hold her up. She keeps her cheek pressed to the tiles, the feel of their cold smooth surface the only thing keeping her tethered to her sanity.

He puts his large hands back at her nape, and then traces them down her back, following the ridges of her spine with his thumbs, stopping to rest them at the dip above her ass, squeezing appreciatively as she curves her spine back towards him, meeting his thrusts, unable to resist. He doesn’t stop her this time, and she knows he’s lost all semblance of control as well.

He fucks into her in slow hard strokes with his thumb on her clit matching his thrusts, and after several minutes of them making obscene desperate sounds, she feels another orgasm building and her whole body quivers, her walls fluttering around his cock causing his pace to becomes erratic. She feels him pulsing deep inside her as he comes with a groan. Rio rests his forehead between her shoulder blades for a minute before he remembers himself and pulls out of her abruptly.

She turns to face him, resting her back against the damp wall and they stare at each other for a moment too long, both trying to process what just happened.

“I really am — “ She starts, breaking the silence and snapping them both out of the moment.

“I don’t fucking wanna hear it Elizabeth. You should go, ” he says breathlessly.

She straightens out her ruined dress enough to cover her thighs and breasts before she slips out, leaving him to stare after her.

He was about to offer to find her some clothes and she is grateful that he stops himself before he does because she doesn’t want his forced pity. 

Beth grabs a fluffy white robe she finds in the locker room and marches back to the front desk. She gave that kid more than enough money to merit another favor.

He sees her approaching and if she wasn’t in the state she is, she’d laugh at his worried expression. He probably thinks she’s batshit crazy by now.

“Hey, I need you to get me some clothes from the lost and found. Something decent, please.”

He brings out an expensive-looking forest green dress, and right. She forgot what a bougie place this was. Of course they had designer pieces in their lost and found. And how does one lose a dress? She begins to wonder before she remembers her own dress still soaking wet under the robe. And, right.

She thanks Peter, whose name tag she finally notices now that she is calmer, and he points her towards the restrooms where she quickly changes, untangles her hair, and dries it with the blow dryer she wasn’t even surprised to find there.

Beth takes a deep breath checking herself in the mirror for a moment too long before reapplying her lipstick.

She can’t believe what she just did.

On her way out she sees Rio approaching from the direction of the locker room in a pair of sweats and a dark blue T-shirt that fits perfectly over his inked biceps, freshly showered skin still flushed, his fingertips probably as pruney as hers. That last thought almost makes her smile. And god he still looks so good, she can feel the heat pool low in her stomach again as if they haven’t just—

She snaps herself out of it to realize they’re both frozen in their track, staring at each other from across the hall. She nods, feeling stupid immediately, but he actually nods back before she hurries out of there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I started writing the story because I wanted them to talk about what happened, and then these two idiots managed to avoid the conversation and proceed straight to fucking. I went back and made them talk, but I don’t know how successful I was. It’s simply not something they do!
> 
> I divided it into two parts because it’s too long, so I will post the second chapter soon.  
> let me know what you think, and if there are tags I should add.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I switch between POVs a bit here, so I hope it’s not too confusing.

You can count on Elizabeth Boland to walk out of the place head held high, nodding at him all prim and proper, as if she wasn’t just bouncing on his cock, chanting his name like a prayer.

Rio spends a little longer than usual at the front desk chatting with Peter, hoping she would be nowhere in sight once he’s outside. And he feels like a complete idiot. Always does around her.

Just an hour ago he was so sure he would be knocking on her door tonight to drive her somewhere out of the city where he could watch her try to talk her way out of getting what she must have known was coming when she chose to fuck with him again. Should’ve known if she were the type of person to think things through, which she isn’t.

He curses to himself as he drives across town to his favorite boxing joint. It’s not his regular day and he just played fucking tennis, but he knows that he’ll explode if he doesn’t hit something right about now.

His friend Liz who owns the place is there, and he’s glad she’s not already boxing because she’s exactly the right person to help him get his head straight.

“Well, look who it is! You feel like getting your ass kicked today Chris baby?”

“You know it, Liz,” He replies with a genuine grin before he proceeds to warm up, tape his hands, and put on the boxing gloves.

But today’s not his lucky day because he slips her jabs and crosses, throws his fair share of hooks, but his mind’s not in it.

“Well, that’s a first.” Liz laughs a little, knowingly. “Something’s got you so stressed you can’t even box it out.”

“Somethin’ like that,” He mutters and she recognizes he doesn’t want to talk about it so they don’t say much after.

She tries her best to challenge and engage him, Rio must give her that. He feels bad that her efforts are mostly in vain, given that as soon as he’s done training, his mind is flooded with the images of Elizabeth’s face, her swollen lips, echoes of her moans against the damp bathroom tiles still ricocheting around his mind.

_Fuck._

He wipes the sheen of sweat off his face and heads for the showers.

Their exchange replays in his mind over and over and he hates that it has him questioning himself. Did he push her too hard? Expect too much? Because he knew she was ready — she did shoot him after all.

What he didn’t take into consideration was just how deep her denial ran. How hard she still clung on to that image of a person she thought she should be, and how far she’d go to protect it. So he may have let himself get impatient, carried away imagining what it would be like to have her by his side, finally all in, not able to walk away again. Because, as much as he tells himself Turner was a lesson, a mess she had to clean up herself, the truth is — it was more about protecting himself from the hurricane that is Elizabeth Boland.

It was quite simple really. She’d either shoot Turner and prove that she was cut out for his world, or she’d refuse and he’d have to do it himself as a final parting gift because either way, he was done with her one foot out the door bullshit.

He hates to admit even to himself that the third outcome, the one that came to be, never even crossed his mind. For this, he only had himself to blame. All the while teaching her that there was no place for trust in their line of work, he was the one who started to trust _her_ without even realizing it.

With these thoughts still swarming in his mind, he parks in front of a bar. Not his bar — he can’t be in any place that reminds him of her right now. He needs a drink or five, and someone else’s scent to occupy his senses, because even after two showers he could swear that the scent of her skin still lingers in his nostrils.

He’s sitting by the bar, nursing his second vodka when a cute brunette starts flirting with him. And it comes easy to him to turn on the charm, say all the right things and say them just like _that_ , and it’s almost frustrating that she’s ready to follow him to the bathroom, to his car, hell — anywhere, and fuck him any which way he wants. It makes him irate for no explicable reason. And he instantly knows he’s leaving there alone because he won’t fuck someone in the state of mind he’s in. 

***

He finds her in the print room a couple of days later pretending not to hear him come in, completely focused on evening out the paper pulp.

He rolls his shoulders to relieve the tension forming between his shoulder blades. Of course she’d do that. Must be thinking he’s all eager to get back into her cunt. Presumptuous much?

He feels the anger building again and, _shit_ , it was a mistake coming near her so soon.

“Hey, now,” He hums and can’t help but feel just the tiniest bit pleased with how unaffected the tone of his voice is. He knows it will piss her off too.

“Hi,” she continues working without so much as looking up. “Guess what. Mick scored some more nail polish. We’re good for at least a few months now.”

“Yeah, about that. I went over the books again and there’s a lot of wiggle room to wash more funny money. So I’m gonna need you to start printing double the amount you do now.”

She looks up only to stare daggers at him, “What? Do you have any idea how much time that’s gonna take? With my shift at the store and Ruby working –“

“Not my problem now, is it? You don’t like the hours, you more than welcome to quit.”

Beth wants to ask where he plans to wash his money if she quits, but she remembers that he apparently has other things going on and he‘d probably just realign his interests without a hitch.

“And you’d let me?”

“Sure. But you know what I’d have to do then.” He drawls, biting his bottom lip daringly.

She scoffs, “Oh, please.”

“What’s that sweetheart?”

“If you were gonna kill me you would’ve done it already. We both know what this is about.”

He’s in her space in a second, so close she can feel his breath on her lips. She hates that she has to will her body not to lean in closer, admit defeat just so she could get lost in him, bask in the heady warmth that spreads through her at the intensity of his gaze.

He seems to drink in her reaction before he bites out, “You don’t speak to me like that anymore. Now get back to work. You got two weeks.”

He’s gone the next second and Beth is left fuming. How did they end up right back where they started? She wasn’t as delusional as to assume everything was resolved now that they’ve… _well_. But she thought they’ve reached some kind of understanding. Guess not.

***

For the next couple of weeks, she prints before her shift and then again in the evenings and far into the night. Annie comes in to help her wash and shred the ones, and Ruby works on the security glow. Running on coffee and barely four hours of sleep she manages to print the amount he asked for and then some, hoping he will see it for the middle finger that it is.

And so what if on the day of the meet she puts on her black keyhole sweater, spends some extra time styling her curls and putting on makeup. She even puts on her sexiest stiletto boots that are too uncomfortable for the whole day at work but make her legs and ass look incredible.

And she can’t help feeling infuriated when he sends Mick to check that the money is printed, and then again to pick up his cut once it’s washed.

She hasn’t seen or heard from him in almost a month, and Beth knows it should come as a relief, but it doesn’t. She cracks a few times and texts him regarding some issue or other, but he doesn’t reply, just sends Mick to deal with it.

Beth decides that it’s fine. She’s fine with this. Him ignoring her will make it easier to go back to normal. She reminds herself she didn’t want any of this. She didn’t want to get caught up in him again. It’s just business and it should stay that way.

So she focuses on work. Decides to be a more hands-on manager and learn as much as she can about the specs of different tubs so she can help with the sales. She gets more involved with the kids’ school activities and tries to attend more PTA meetings. She even hosts a few wine nights with the moms she hasn’t seen in a while. She’s proud of how well she’s managing everything.

And then one Monday evening when she’s halfway through printing the third double batch and bone-tired, he finally decides to show up at Boland Bubbles. She’s already closed up and stayed later than usual to catch up on paperwork. The pesky flapping in her chest makes itself known immediately, like a stubborn bird trying to escape its capture. She ignores it.

“The batch is not ready yet. We still have five days left.”

“I’m not here for that.”

“To what do I owe this pleasure then, _boss_?”

And she half-expects him to snarl at her again about her tone, to start barking new orders, new impossible tasks for her to complete, but he just huffs before dropping into the chair across from her, eyes on the table between them. She studies his face better then and notices the dark circles under his eyes, the line between his brows and realizes he looks as tired as she feels.

They just sit there in silence for a minute before he picks up a binder from the desk and they continue working without a word. As annoyed as she is that he showed up on the night when she’s more exhausted than she remembers ever being, she’s also relieved that she could finish the work in half the time it usually takes. They just lock up and go their separate ways once they’re done.

Rio knows that she likes doing paperwork on Mondays even though it makes zero sense. He’s there again next Monday, and the one after that. And truth be told, with all the extra work she’s had in the last couple of months, Beth actually doesn’t always do the paperwork as religiously as she used to, but now she tries to stick to the schedule for no reason whatsoever.

They don’t usually say much, but fall into the habit of having a glass of bourbon while they work. And so what if they find reasons to stay a little bit longer every time.

Rio hates that he sleeps better on the nights that he spends at the store, that he finally feels grounded. Something that boxing every other night of the week didn’t do for him. Liz jokes that she’s going to have to let him move in if he keeps coming in that often.

He also hates that he sometimes finds himself ordering bourbon when he drinks alone at the bar. If he imagines how luscious the amber drink would taste on another pair of lips, he doesn’t acknowledge it.

But one could say that things are back to normal. At least until he sends Mick to pick up his next cut, and tells him to let Elizabeth know they can cut back on the printing again. He doesn’t like the weird look he gets from Mick but pretends he doesn’t notice, making a mental note to remind that man he’s still his boss.

Next Monday he finds her lolling in a hot tub with her eyes closed and a glass of bourbon in her hand—another empty one waiting on the side of the tub next to the bottle. He doesn’t say anything as he pours himself a drink and drops next to her.

Cocooned in a loaded silence for a few minutes they just sip on their drinks until her eyes open with a sigh, and she rolls her head to the side to find him staring at her already. His long fingers move across the cold surface of the tub to stroke the soft back of her hand.

Late to realize that it’s too intimate, too baring, he immediately wants to take it back.

“Do you think you’ll ever really forgive me?” her voice breaks the silence, “For shooting you, I mean?” She adds needlessly.

He’s silent for a minute longer, studying her face, and she slowly loses hope that he’s going to say anything, but then he speaks in a hushed tone, “When I do you’ll be the first to know.”

There’s no enmity in his eyes now, his face is open, stripped of each and every mask he puts on in her presence. And she recognizes it, a glimpse of something she never thought he’d let her have back. The look not unlike the one he gave her at the bar before she lured him into her bed. The look so rare that she files it away with the rest few.

And Beth knows it’s silly, but the fact that he said _when_ and not _if_ makes something warm uncurl in her chest.

 _When._ Her stupid heart threshes.

Their eyes dance around each other’s faces, drinking in every emotion that plays out before they both lean in slowly, their lips barely an inch apart as they breathe each other’s air for a moment that feels much too intimate, weighed with significance.

Neither of them knows who made the final move when they’re already in the middle of a kiss – slow, soft but demanding; same as the pace they settle into as she straddles him, unbuttons his jeans and rides him in the empty hot tub, the only sounds of their hips meeting, and the acrylic surface squeaking beneath them from time to time, causing Beth to giggle, and Rio to run his fingers through her hair and pull her in closer, kiss her harder, swallow the sound that makes his heart swell in a way it doesn’t have any right to.

And they don’t talk about it when it becomes a weekly thing.

When Rio shows up at the boxing club after a couple of weeks’ absence finally looking well-rested, Liz grins purposedly but doesn’t comment.

Rio starts coming to the store more often, sometimes even before closing, and has a drink with Beth and Annie. The latter usually excuses herself at closing time, muttering something about having to pick up Ben. They all know she is well-aware of the new developments in their… _relationship_ , but Beth was thankful that she kept her teasing to a minimum, except the occasional comments.

And things seem to go well for a while. Until they don’t.

One of those evenings Rio decides to show up happens to be Beth’s wedding anniversary. She and Dean have been back to roommates and co-parents ever since her failed pregnancy attempts. So she was quite surprised that he wanted to take her out and celebrate their anniversary but accepted anyway. It was easier than coming up with an excuse not to. They live together after all and have dinners at home anyway.

During the working hours, she’s debated whether to text Rio not to come that evening, but she didn’t even know if he was planning to. And then her day got busy and she forgot all about it. She only realized her mistake once he walked in, mere minutes before closing, just as Dean was about to arrive pick her up.

“Well, shit,” Annie mutters under her breath.

“Hey, um, listen…” Beth starts, but before she can even think of something to say, she sees Dean’s car parking in front of the store.

“Oh, double shit.” Annie shrieks.

She doesn’t have time to think before grabbing Rio by his sleeve and pulling him into the storage room. If she did, she’d probably expect him to pull a gun at her rather than following her in. But he must have been surprised enough to come with her without protest.

“What the hell…? “ He hisses once inside.

“Shhh! I’ll explain, just be quiet.” Annie says with her ear to the door.

“Now would be great.” He clenches his jaw.

“It’s Dean, he can’t see you.”

Rio scoffs and takes a step to leave. “I ain’t hiding from _Dean_.”

Annie pulls him back again and he shoots her a murderous glare in return. She’s really pushing her luck.

“I get it, but please, _please_. Do it for her.” Her eyebrows knit pleadingly.

And Rio’s eyes widen for a moment in surprise. He didn’t expect her to play that card any more than Annie was planning to, but she’s desperate.

“Why?”

“He doesn’t know you’re involved in the business. He thinks this thing is legit.”

“So I’m supposed to hide in a closet every time he shows up? Nah, screw that.” He starts to protest again, and Annie speaks before she can think better of it.

“Please. If he finds out you’re involved he’ll take her kids again!”

She registers her mistake as soon as Rio’s face scrunches up into a scowl. Realization dawns on him slowly.

“The last time he took her kids it was over me?”

“Well, kinda. You, crime, all of it.”

“And then he brought her kids back…” Rio starts piecing the puzzle together out loud.

“Yeah, once she quit.” Annie goes on to talk about Beth’s spell in AA, but he isn’t listening anymore.

How did he miss that? The bastard gave her an ultimatum and Elizabeth just rolled over? After all the shit she pulls with him on the regular, all the shit he knows she’s capable of handling, she lets that spineless clown blackmail her? Rio clenches his jaw, fuming. He can’t wait to get out of this fucking room and hit something.

Once Annie receives a text from Beth telling her they’ve left and the coast is clear, he just storms out of there without a word.

***

Dean has made reservations at their usual restaurant. Once they are seated he proceeds to look over the menu he must know by heart already. Beth finds herself tapping her foot impatiently, annoyed that she knows he’ll spend the next five minutes flipping through the pages until he orders one of exactly three dishes that he always does.

Their food and drinks arrive while they talk about work and the kids for a while, Beth maintaining a conversation on autopilot, her thoughts still back at the spa.

“Why are we still married?” she says suddenly halfway through the main course, making Dean pause with his fork midair.

“Um.. that’s a weird question to ask, especially tonight.” He chuckles nervously.

Beth takes a sip of her wine to calm her nerves before replying, “Is it? Tonight seems kinda perfect.”

“Well, I don’t know what to say Bethie.” Dean smiles weakly.

“Tell me one thing, and be honest. Could you be happy in our marriage the way it is now, for the rest of our lives?”

“Wow. I mean, we haven’t really been us lately…” He lets the sentence trail off, not wanting to talk about the pregnancy tests, Rio, or even worse, his own transgressions. “But we could try couples therapy and maybe we could spend more time together, like tonight.”

“Do you think it would help?”

“I don’t know, but don’t you think it’s worth a shot?”

“I think we’ve been over for a long time Dean. And no amount of therapy or nice dinners could fix that.”

Dean’s mouth is agape for a moment. He closes and opens it a few times before he replies, “Wow, it seems like you’ve known that for a while.”

“Yeah, I think I have,” Beth admits weakly.

“Is it because of him?”

“No”, her reply comes immediately because she’s expected this question sooner, “it started a long time before he came along.”

“Jesus, Beth. So this is it, huh?”

“This is it.” She nods wistfully.

“Well, I guess we should talk about telling the kids. Again.”

“Yeah.” Beth sighs, worried about springing this news on her children when they’re already lacking any routine in their lives. She knows she should’ve waited for things to get back to normal, but she’s slowly making peace with the fact that there isn’t such a thing as normal in their lives anymore.

***

Dean stayed at Judith’s and took the kids to school before work and Beth doesn’t have to print this morning, so when she hears noise coming from the kitchen, she’s pissed. There goes her plan to sleep in and enjoy having a real bed for the first time in ages. It arrived the day before and Beth never thought she would be that excited for a piece of furniture. Not only did it feel great to sleep in a bed after spending months on an air mattress, but it is also kind of symbolic. New beginnings and all. There was something weirdly satisfying about sleeping in a bed she never shared with Dean… or Rio. All hers. But here she is now, unable to go back to sleep. The hangover doesn’t help, or the splitting headache that comes with it.

Dean must have forgotten something at the house. So Beth pads to the kitchen barefoot, not even bothering to pull on a robe over her silk midnight blue nightgown that she impulsively bought to celebrate her new business venture. She curses her decision immediately when she sees Rio there, making himself tea.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she crosses her arms on her chest. Another mistake. His eyes go straight to her cleavage and then scan her up and down blatantly.

“Making tea. You want some?”

“No. Did you have to make so much noise?”

“Kinda. It took some time to find the tea... and the teapot.”

“Well, we aren’t big tea drinkers around here.”

“Yeah,” he hums more to himself.

“So, why are you here?”

“Oh, so we gonna pretend last night didn’t happen? You know, the part with me hidin’ in the broom closet while you prance off to dinner with the hubby?”

Beth scoffs. “Oh, so you’re jealous?” She regrets the childish comment immediately, and is about to blame it on her hangover, but —

Rio hisses “I don’t hide in fucking closets Elizabeth.”

Sighing, Beth rolls her eyes, “You know he can’t know about the money going through the store. I’ve explained that. And if you ever bothered to tell me when you’re coming over, I would’ve told you last night was no good.”

“Yeah, another thing you failed to tell me is what happens if he finds out we’re working together.” The accusation his eyes is enough to make her more furious than she already is.

She’s gonna kill Annie.

“I didn’t tell you because it’s none of your business.”

Rio rocks his jaw and takes a step forward, “But see, If he’s blackmailin’ you 'cause of me, it _is_ my fucking business. You should’ve come to me.”

“Oh please.” she shakes her head with a small irritated chuckle.

“Instead, you just roll over. For him?” He scrunches up his face in disappointment.

Her eyes are feral with anger as she looks back up at him and steps forward, “I didn’t roll over. I didn’t have the money to fight him for custody. And I did come to you once, remember? You gave me a nice lecture about the way money works.”

“Yeah, well I didn’t know —”

“And then when Turner was after me and my whole life was on the line you just disappeared! Radio silence!” She’s yelling now, but can’t help it.

“You wanted to be out. That’s what bein’ out looks like sweetheart.” Rio barks.

“Of course, and god forbid you pass up a chance to teach me a lesson. Well, you showed me.”

“Elizabeth — “ His eyes are gleaming warningly.

“So I should’ve come to you, huh? So you could offer to help me by shooting him in the face? Or maybe laugh in my face, tell me it’s not your problem, and remind me we’re just work?”

Rio looks taken aback for a moment, before he strides around the counter before his large warm hands envelop her face, almost sweeping her off the ground as he kisses her until she’s breathless.

“What are you doing?” She mutters breathily.

“Shuttin’ you up.”

“You shouldn’t do that, I’m really mad at you.”

“I know ma, but have you seen yourself in this thing?” He purrs, running his fingers along the lace top of her nightgown, and she shudders. Beth knows he’s deflecting and that she should stop this, finish what they’ve started. He’s the one who wanted to have this conversation after all. But when his finger dips lower to graze her nipple, she gives in and surges up to kiss him.

He slides his hands down her back, palms at her ass appreciatively before he picks her up, and she yelps in surprise as he plants her on the kitchen island.

Her legs hooked around his hips, pulling him in closer, she pants in between the kisses, “I’m getting divorced.”

“Good.” He hums back.

“And I’m gonna ask for the full ownership of Boland Bubbles.”

“Even better.”

“And we have to renegotiate our division of profits.”

He grins, “Is that right?”

She kisses the grin off his face, and he huffs in frustration when she breaks their kiss again to add, “And I don’t ever want to have sex in an empty hot tub again. My back hurts.”

“They’re called spas.” He drawls, smug.

“Shut up.” She breathes, unbuttoning his shirt bunglingly.

Rio chuckles and kisses her long and hard, melting into her before pausing to look at her face, suddenly serious.

“What?”

His gaze dances around her face, committing to memory the glazed look in her eyes, blown pupils making the blue orbs appear wild, almost catlike. His hands come up to push her hair back, thumbs stroking her flushed cheeks, “You weren’t work. I was just pissed.”

Letting out a loud breath she sucks in his bottom lip and bites it lightly in response, before sharing a confession of her own in return.

“I didn’t want to break it off. I did it for them. My kids.”

“I know.” He puts his forehead against hers and they just hold each other for a moment, overwhelmed.

“Can you please take me to bed now?” She whispers, like anything louder would spoil the moment, break the bubble they’re suspended in. 

“Oh baby, I thought you’d never ask.” He pushes their faces closer together for a moment before picking her up.

***

Beth lays with her arm across Rio’s chest while he traces his fingers up and down her arm, deep in thought.

“So when you said no more sex in empty hot tubs, did that mean we can still do it if there’s water in it?”

She giggles, “I don’t know. Don’t they breed diseases?”

“Well, maybe we could make an exception, just once. We gotta test out our own product, right?”

“Sure.” She traces her fingers down his torso, trying to get used to the new markings, the ones she put there. She wonders if she’s ever going to be able to see them and not think about what she did.

“Rio?”

“Mm?” he hums, stretching a little.

“If this thing with us is gonna work we have to talk. No more fighting just to come out on top. No more secrets.”

He’s silent for another minute, and then tilts his head to look at her, “Can we always talk things out like this?”

“Why not.” she chuckles.

“And I can still come on top in bed?”

“Mmm, sometimes.”

“Then it’s fine by me, darlin’,” He purrs before he wraps his arms around her and rolls her on top of him.

“And Rio,”

“Yeah?”

“I’d really like my furniture back now.”

He throws back his head and laughs, the booming sound filling the room until her hand wrapping around his cock shuts him up, and she slides down to make a case for herself.

“Naw, sorry sweetheart, but playin’ dirty won’t help.” He tries to protest before she flattens her tongue against his thick veiny length and he groans.

_Fuck._

Her furniture arrives the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up changing this part a lot, and I’m still not sure I like how it turned out. The fluffy ending doesn’t feel very canon-y but the days are cold and gloomy and I needed it, okay?  
> Let me know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> So I started writing the story because I wanted them to talk about what happened, and then these two idiots managed to avoid the conversation and proceed straight to fucking. I went back and made them talk, but I don’t know how successful I was. It’s simply not something they do!
> 
> I divided it into two parts because it’s too long, so I will post the second chapter soon.  
> let me know what you think, and if there are tags I should add.


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